


Blood Bank

by GriffinCastle



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood Loss, Blood of the Dead Map, Established Relationship, Graphic Description, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriffinCastle/pseuds/GriffinCastle
Summary: The side-effects of blood loss as Dempsey says goodbye.
Relationships: "Tank" Dempsey/Edward Richtofen
Kudos: 50





	Blood Bank

**When Richtofen first gave blood, he was screaming.** Mechanized syringes burrowed deep and unrelenting; enough to mark impressions on his milk-white bones. The poorly man was left to choke out his anguish, and Dempsey froze with the raging battlefield. 

Never had the Marine heard a cry so visceral. Not even when his dearest needed reviving. Like a wolf protecting his mate, instinct called him to action, and he fought to join Edward's side.

Richtofen exhaled through clenched teeth, "we've done this so many times before. _So many times_. 

"What in the hell are you talking about?! Get the hell out of there, Doc!"

"It always ends the same. I _must_ do this."

Dempsey attempted to dismantle the joints of the machine, but only elicited another cry of pain.

**After the first liter** , Richtofen is subdued. He's still in pain, but Dempsey _knows_ that face. The look of a man prepared to embrace the world’s sharp edges. Edward restrained his tears. 

Iron cut circulation from his extremities. 

Fingertips went cold. 

Dempsey felt the firmament heavy on his back, and cupped the doctor’s worn face.

" _Please_ , tell me how to help you," he begged

"Oh Dempsey," Richtofen cooed with baited breath, "the only thing you can do is forget."

**After a liter and a half** , Richtofen is dazed. The world around him became skittering warmth across his flesh. Sinew coiled around his broken vessels. Whispers of little softness. Somehow, his heart raced, but his pulse was so very weak.

"I don't want to forget loving you," the Marine tried to fix his partner's strewn locks, "we're getting you out of this."

But the two knew this would happen someday. 

There was nothing they could do.

To lay dying in the other's arms.

**After two liters** , Richtofen's breathing was shallow and stomach nauseous.

The man softened his gaze, “I don’t want to die, Dempsey."

Tank pressed his forehead to Edward’s, “what about our perfect tomorrow?"

"...I'm sorry."

The doctor suddenly contorted as the strings of his arteries pulled from his body. Like a stubborn loose string pulled from a jacket.

**After two and a half liters** , Richtofen was falling asleep. It hurt, it hurt to watch. Even whilst the machine held the taught body, Edward struggled to maintain good posture. The soldier could only press a sorrow-ridden kiss to his lover's eyelids. 

_Tender and merciful affection_. 

It tasted like salt.

Edward accepted the endearment, before weakly flashing that goofy smile Dempsey loved so much.

"Just don't say goodbye," the doctor whispered, "I hate goodbyes."

Another Richtofen told Tank it was time to go.

**After three liters,** Dempsey reluctantly pulled away, his yearning hands to trail from the German's own. 

Another Richtofen, 

there would _always_ be other Richtofen's. 

But this one was _his._

By then, Edward was on his last breaths. Without Tank, he began to wail and lament his anger. A broken voice cutting the still wind. Once a thing of such beauty was now desperate and pale. 

No one can bear to look any longer. 

Pathetic displays didn't suit the noble man.

**After four liters,** Dempsey knew if he left the odd purgatory, he'd forget his lover. His partner. His confidant.

Good and bad. 

This moment, and each one before it.

Edward asked for no goodbyes, but Tank would still whisper a gentle, " _I love you_."

One Richtofen could not hear.

The marine pled to wake up, or that he could somehow take the day back. He'd never find the same home in another. 

Tank's soul was lacerated by memories.

No looking back.

**After the final liter** , Tank stepped into the portal.

He'd be happier to forget

Than remember _the nicest one_ had to die like this.

_Lost in little softness._

**Author's Note:**

> Been sad, so I write sad things. 
> 
> Inspiration from this amazing song:  
> https://youtu.be/VlNs4IoRNck
> 
> Trying to warm up. School ends soon so I can start making art again.


End file.
